


Night is the Other Half of Life

by SouthernWriter



Series: Out of Darkness [3]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27788722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthernWriter/pseuds/SouthernWriter
Summary: The traitor inside the Foundation steps up their game, and a member of the pack pays the price.  Can Mac look past his grief to find the truth?
Series: Out of Darkness [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996234
Comments: 23
Kudos: 20





	1. On My Own

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: implied character death in this chapter for one of the main characters. You'll have to keep reading to see if he's really dead.

On My Own

“So let me get this straight. The queen of the Dark Fairy court just so happens to have been planning this for hundred, if not thousands, of years. Our new ‘friend’ Brian Connelly was just the final piece she needed to set things in motion. Did she bother to say _why_ she was doing any of this?” 

Matty looked expectantly at her premier team. They were all gathered in the War Room, the Monday morning after Mab, or Maeve, or whatever else she called herself, had shown up at Mac’s place and so “helpfully” revealed her plan.

“Not exactly,” Jack said, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “And we didn’t have the chance to ask before our time ran out.”

“But, reading between the lines, and knowing what little we do about the Fae, especially the Winter Court, I’d say she’s doing this because she can. Because it’ll make people a little more afraid of the dark again. And I wouldn’t be surprised to find it gives her some sort of power boost,” Mac was quick to interject.

Matty mulled it over for a moment before ultimately agreeing with Mac’s assessment.

“Regardless of her intentions or reasons, it’s the reality we’re stuck with now,” Matty said. “We’ll just have to deal with it the best we can from here on out. But for now, we have other matters to deal with. You have a new mission. More specifically, _Jack_ has a new mission.”

Matty waited for the startled exclamations to die down before continuing.

“This came directly from Oversight; I was given no say on the subject.”

“Just what kind of job is it that they only want one member of the team,” Mac asked with a suspicious scowl.

“A ‘simple’ prisoner transfer,” Matty replied. “Apparently the Feds stumbled on one of the CIA’s most wanted and took her into custody. Our assistance was requested in making sure this individual makes it to the proper CIA holding facility.”

“This sounds really sketchy to me,” Riley commented, looking up from her laptop. “I’m not seeing any chatter about this, at all. Like, none. Usually if the Feds ‘happen’ to catch someone like this, it means something big went down, and that usually makes waves. If you know where to look, it spreads like wildfire in a matter of hours. I’m not seeing anything.”

“Besides, we know Jack isn’t Oversight’s favorite person,” Boze added. “It seems kinda hinky to me that they’re suddenly sending him, by himself, on this mission.”

“I wish I could disagree with you,” Matty said. “I don’t like it either. But Oversight has made their stance clear. Not to mention, they’ve made some pretty substantial threats if we don’t toe the line this time.”

“Like what?” The growl of a protective Alpha Wolf was clear in Mac’s voice.

“Muzzle it, Alpha-boy,” Matty snapped, refusing to allow her intimidation to show. “Oversight is threatening to send Riley back to prison, and revoke Bozer’s position and clearance if Jack doesn’t do this. They’ve made it clear, even if you were all to quit, they’d still follow through. So while I agree there is more to this than just some simple prisoner transfer, I don’t see how we have a choice.”

“Just who am I supposed to be helping transfer,” Jack suddenly piped up.

“I’m not supposed to tell you this, and it doesn’t leave this room,” Matty said seriously. “Jack, it’s Harper Hayes.”

Mac had the unsettling, and rather frightening experience, of seeing actual, genuine fear on Jack’s face for the first time in their entire relationship.

“Who is Harper Hayes,” Riley asked.

“Hayes is former CIA,” Matty said. “Special Activities Division. For several years she was one of their top SOG, or Special Operations Group/Tactical Military operatives, until she decided to turn traitor. Up until 3 months ago she worked for whichever arms dealer, mercenary, or terrorist group that would pay her the most. Loyalty is not one of her virtues; she’s been known to switch sides mid job just because the other side offered her a bigger payday.”

“That’s what Hays did,” Jack countered. “What Harper Hayes _is,_ well, that’s something else entirely.” He looked Mac straight in the eyes. “Harper Hayes is a she-demon, the devil in human skin.”

“Jack,” Matty said, but he cut her off.

“Uh-uh, Matty, you weren’t there. You didn’t see what that bitch did to my team.” Jack looked back at Mac and the others, a haunted look in his eyes. “It was one of the worst missions of my career. I was in a place I can’t name, south of Texas, doing something I can’t tell you about when I got word we had an asset come forward who could give us intel on some real bad dudes in our area. Four of us were assigned to get him out of the country as quickly and quietly as possible. At the end of three days, I was the only one of my team to make it out alive, and that was just barely. Hayes hunted us down, taking my guys out one by one. All told, we lost five people on that mission; three of my guys, one of the exfil team, and the asset. I’m pretty sure Hayes is convinced she got me too, since she put a bullet through me to get to him as we were boarding the plane to get the hell out. He was just a kid, barely older than Mac was when we first met. In fact, that mission was the biggest reason I left the CIA. I was in a dark, dark spiral, and couldn’t see my way out. Until I had this little brat of an EOD tech with a ridiculous hamburger name dumped in my lap, that is, and gave me reason to live again.”

Matty gave Jack a surprise look.

“Jack, the asset didn’t die. I can’t give you details, but he is alive and well with a family of his own.”

“Matty, I could hear the medics working on him as the plane took off,” Jack contended. “They said he was bleeding out faster than they could stop it.”

“They were talking about you, moron,” Matty told him not unkindly. “You stepped in the way of the bullet meant to kill that kid. It nicked an artery, and _you_ were bleeding out. The asset was hit too, but nothing vital. They got him on the plane and out of the line of fire before Hayes could get a second shot at him.”

Looking overwhelmed, Jack sat down, hard, on the nearest seat.

“I didn’t get him killed?”

“You saved him, Jack,” Matty said. “And now you have the opportunity to help make sure Harper Hayes can’t kill anyone else.”

* * *

The mission outline was simple. Mac hated it. In order to keep a low profile, Jack would pick up Hayes and the medic assigned to keep her under sedation for the flight, and fly them himself to a private airstrip in Montana. He would be met there by the security team from the CIA, who would then take Hayes into custody. Matty had pulled some strings, and had arranged for Mac to join that CIA team at the airstrip, and then he and Jack would make their way back to LA together.

“Oversight just said Jack had to handle the delivery solo,” Matty pointed out. “They never said Mac couldn’t join up with him at the hand-off.”

The night before the mission, the team had a get together at Mac’s place. Bozer had gone all out and fixed all of Jack’s favorites.

“Y’all didn’t have to do this,” Jack teased his teammates. “I’m gonna be back in just a couple of days.”

“We know,” Bozer said, “but this Hayes character sounds like something out of a nightmare. We just want to send you off with some good memories before you have to deal with her.”

“ _And_ remind you that if you get yourself killed, we’re gonna be pissed,” Riley added.

“I love you too,” Jack said, pulling the two younger agents in for a hug. “Now, I’d better go find Mac and pull him out of his head before he gets lost. Just, watch out for him for me over the next couple of days, will you?”

Jack found Mac sitting on the patio, staring into the flames in the firepit.

“You okay, hoss?”

“If I say no, will you reconsider?”

“Wish I could, but I’m not giving Oversight the chance to get their hands on Riley or Bozer. Not when this is a simple enough job.”

“That’s what scares me,” Mac admitted. “The ‘simple’ and ‘easy’ jobs usually end up being anything but. And this time you won’t have us watching your six.”

“I _can_ take care of myself, you know,” Jack ribbed his friend, but Mac wasn’t in any frame of mind to be teased. “Besides, you need to think about yourself. You have your final requalification psych eval tomorrow. I want my partner back in the field with me.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about. Just be careful, okay? I have a bad feeling about this.”

* * *

Jack’s plane had vanished. 

The plane carry Jack and his other two passengers was just…gone. Jack and the plan he was flying had disappeared. No matter how Mac rearranged the words, he still couldn’t make them make any sense.

From all reports, Jack’s departure from his point of origin had gone off without a hitch. The plane had made it into the air, and was right on point as far as his filed flight path went. Then, two hours into the flight, the plane vanished from radar. No SOS, no call for help, or any other sign of distress had come from the aircraft. It just…disappeared.

In the two days since the airplane had gone missing, and the NTSB has started its search, Mac felt like he had been living in a fog. Not even the arrival of Matty and the others been able to break him out of it. Unable to offer any assistance what wasn’t already being provided, Mac and the others were forced to sit around and wait.

Riley and Bozer had already shed tears for the “what-if’s” and the unknowns, but Mac had been stoic. Numb. Disconnected from everything going on around him. And then the news came in. The plane had been found. Well, what was left of the plane had been found.

It might have taken hours, but to Mac it only felt like minutes between the time the news was delivered, and he and the others arrived on site. By the time they reached the crash site, any fires had been put out, and the NTSB and other emergency personal were swarming the area. All Mac had eyes for were three sheet-draped bodies carefully arranged to the side, a canopy covering them to keep the out of the rain Mac hadn’t even taken notice of.

“You don’t have to do this,” Matty tried to tell him. “Jack wouldn’t want you to see him like this. Just let us get him home, and we can use DNA or dental records to ID him.”

But Mac refused. He knew, if it had been him under that sheet, Jack would have insisted on doing the ID himself, no matter how much it hurt him. Mac couldn’t do less for his partner.

Mac’s numbness lasted until the ME pulled back the sheet to reveal the badly burned form nominally ID’s as Jack. At first, Mac was able to convince himself it was some sort of sick joke, even after he saw the partially melted wolf ring fused to the body’s finger. It was what he smelled, under the scent of burned flesh, that forced him to face reality. It was faint, and hard to detect, but despite the gut-churning odor of the burned bodies, there was the familiar scent of Jack. All at once, the emotions he’d been pushing back, all of the fear, hurt, and grief, hit, and Mac went down. Kneeling in the muddy field, surround by bits of plane and strangers, Mac dropped his head to his chest and gave a long, mournful howl.

* * *

Two days later, DNA confirmed what everyone had known. Jack was dead, killed in that plane crash. The only comforting bit of news they had received was Jack had died of a broken neck, likely when the plane hit the ground. The burns had occurred after. It was small comfort for his mourning pack.

A memorial service was held a week later. After breaking the news to Jack’s family, it was decided he would be interred in LA next his father. Mac had tried to convince Elaine, Jack’s mom, to take him back to Texas, but she had been adamant.

“Jack ought to be here, near you,” Elaine told Mac. “He loved you like you were his own, and he’d haunt me for eternity if I dared take him away from you now. I knew, from the moment he told us he was re-upping in order look after his ‘bomb-nerd,’ that something had changed with him. I just had to hear him talk about you to know you had become the center of his world. He couldn’t have loved you more if you were his blood. Besides, you know how he was with his pop; he’d hate to leave his old man here alone. No, the only place for Jack is here."

When the day of the funeral arrived, rather than a formal service or eulogy, members of the congregation were invited to share their favorite memories of Jack. As person after person went up, Mac could feel all eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. Through the whole service he sat, dry-eyed, between Riley and Elaine on the family row as person after person got up and shared their stories. Some were funny, some were poignant, but all were quintessentially _Jack_. The service was drawing to a close, when Mac suddenly climbed to his feet. The cleric officiating graciously stepped aside to give Mac the pulpit.

“I, uh, I don’t actually know what I’m going to say,” Mac said slowly. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. What are the right words when the person who has been there for you through some of the worst times in your life, is suddenly…not there? I still don’t understand what made Jack stay all those years ago. I don’t understand what he saw in me that even my own father couldn’t. I just know Jack made me feel…safe. The world around me could be going to hell, but it never seemed quite so bad when Jack was there. Jack was the first person who ever told me they loved me, and I was able to believe it. He was my Overwatch, my big brother, my best friend; the closest thing I’ve had to a father in years. I miss him, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. What do I do now?” Looking lost and oh so very young, Mac looked at the now sobbing crowd and softly repeated. “What do I do now?”


	2. So Don't Believe a Word He Says

So Don’t Believe a Word He Says

In a move that shocked and insulted the entirety of the Phoenix employee base, Mac’s request for bereavement leave was not only denied, but the day after the memorial service, Jack’s replacement was waiting for the team, who had all turned down their own bereavement leave in solidarity with Mac, when they arrived. Matty was, in a word, pissed. And she wasn’t shy about showing it.

“Mac, Riley, Bozer, this is Lucas Forester; he’s been assigned to work as Overwatch for the team.”

Forester, demonstrating the ability to at least read the room, simply nodded at the others. Of course, that could have simply been the disbelieving and poisonous stares Mac and the others were opening giving him.

“I hate to do this to you, and if I had any recourse I’d take it, but Oversight insists I get you back out in the field,” Matty told them. “As if any of you are in any state to be out there, but what do I know?”

“We’ll be okay,” Mac assured her. “This isn’t…ideal, but, uh, what choice do we have? Jack wouldn’t want us moping around on his behalf.”

Matty’s eyes softened briefly as she looked at Mac. “He’d be so proud of you,” she said softly, then it was business as usual.

“Okay, here’s the deal. You’re headed to Italy, at the Italian government’s request no less. Just a basic surveillance job. We got word that one Sergei Maximoff, a slimeball who works as the middle man to any number of gun runners and terrorist groups, has been located. He’s supposed to be meeting with one of his contacts to arranged a weapons drop. Your job is just to listen in on the meet and acquire the date and location of the exchange. If we can get the name of his contact and where the weapons are coming from that would be fantastic, but that’s not essential to the point the op. Just, take it easy, okay? I know this is Mac’s first time out since he was cleared by psych, and it’s not under the best of circumstances by any stretch of the imagination, but I trust you to do this.”

* * *

The op went sideways not five minutes after their departure, and just got worse from there. Which isn’t to say they weren’t successful. In fact, no one got hurt, but it was very quickly evident their new addition wasn’t a good fit. It all started with what should have been a simple, getting to know you conversation.

“We really didn’t get a chance to get to know each other earlier, so I thought I’d give you a little more information about myself,” Forester said once the team was settled on the plane. “If it were me, I’d want to know about the guy assigned to watch my back.” When no one spoke up to either agree or disagree, Forester continued. “I’m a former Army Ranger. I’m qualified as an expert sharpshooter, and know three different forms of martial arts. I did three tours Overseas, so I’m familiar with being in tough situations. I’ve been with Phoenix about six months, working with various teams as a back-up Overwatch. I’ve been out in the field for most of that time, so I don’t really know anyone in the Foundation. As for my personal life, well, I think you can understand keeping that to myself until we get to know each other better. So, someone want to tell me how Dalton screwed up? I’d like to know where my predecessor went wrong so I can avoid making the same mistake.”

Without saying a word, Mac simply got up and moved away from the man who had been foisted off on them, too upset and angry to even correct his misconception. But that was okay, Riley and Bozer were more than willing to do it for him.

“Jack didn’t ‘screw up’ as you put it,” Bozer informed the perplexed man. “He died. Just over a week ago.”

“And you’re back out in the field already? Man, you either really didn’t care for Dalton, or you’ve got some serious emotional issues.”

“Try being forced back into the field after your bereavement leave was denied,” Riley snapped at him. “Jack wasn’t Overwatch for our team, he was family. He’s been watching Mac’s back for nearly a decade, and when he died, Mac wasn’t even given time to properly grieve him before you were dropped in our laps and we were told to buck up and head back out. On top of that, Mac is just coming back after a rather…traumatic experience. Jack was a big part of his support system. So watch what you say about Jack. In fact, it would be best if you just didn’t mention Jack at all.”

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Forester said with what seemed to be genuine regret. “I was only told I was being sent in to cover a team who had an abrupt need for a new Overwatch. That usually implies the previous Overwatch messed up big time, and either got himself or someone else badly injured. I shouldn’t have assumed. I mean, having the same Overwatch for nearly a decade is pretty dang impressive. You probably don’t know this, but most Overwatch assignments last 2, maybe 3 years. The stress of keeping a team alive can really take it out of you. Dalton must have been hot stuff. I mean, having two lab nerds and a girly techie to keep alive? If it were me, I’d leave Bozeman here in the lab where he obviously belongs; that’d be one less body to have to watch out in the field.”

“It’s Bozer, and usually I do stay in the lab,” Bozer replied indignantly. “But whether I do or not is, thankfully, not up to you; that’s Matty’s call. In this instance my presence is necessary. The prosthetic Riley is going to be wearing for this job is a custom piece, which means she’s going to need help applying it; hence my attendance on this mission. As for Mac being a lab nerd, he spent several years as an EOD tech in Afghanistan, and over five years as a field agents with the Foundation. He probably has more field time than you do. And I wouldn’t let Riley hear you call her just a ‘girly techie’ again if you value your entire online existence. Piss her off, and she’ll ruin you more thoroughly than the IRS.”

“I know better than to disrespect a lady, especially one good with a laptop. My ex-mistr…I mean, ex-girlfriend would have my balls if she ever heard me say something so stupid. And what she didn’t shred in the first round, she would have stomped to paste the second go-through.”

“Mistress huh,” Riley said. “Since you didn’t mention a wife, I’m guess you don’t mean your side piece.” Then she shrugged. “Hey, whatever floats your boat.”

“My ex was extremely….assertive when it came to her, uh, needs,” Forester said, tone and body language getting defensive. “We both liked letting her be dominant in the bedroom. You want to make something out of it?”

“Chill, dude,” Riley said. “Like you said, your personal life is personal. If that’s what makes you happy, and you were both comfortable with it, more power to you.”

When Forester saw his new team members weren’t going to make any more of his revelation than that, he relaxed back in his seat.

“Well then, why don’t you tell me a little more about how we’re going to get the information we’re after.”

* * *

Given the tense atmosphere following the flight to Italy, the first official part of the op went off without a hitch. With Bozer’s prosthetics in place, Riley had been able to get close enough to plant the bug on their target without raising any suspicions. The team then sat back and waited for Maximoff to head to his meet. It wasn’t until they observed Sergei exiting his car and greeting his contact that they realized something had gone wrong.

“He changed shirts _and_ phones,” Riley spat. “We planted the bug on those items because we figured one or the other was sure to be at the meeting. We didn’t plan on him leaving both behind.”

“Okay, okay, I think I got this,” Mac said, already tearing into the front console of the car. “Jack! I need…” Mac stopped mid-sentence, then started again. “Forester, I need your phone.”

“Hell no,” Forester, replied. “I have no idea what you’re doing, but my phone is off limits.”

Before Mac could argue with him, Bozer had slapped a phone into Mac’s hand.

“Here, bro. Use mine.”

While Mac was busy assembling whatever doohickey was going to be their saving grace this time, Riley and Bozer both turned disgusted looks on Forester.

“This team has one Rule,” Riley said. “When Mac asks you to do something, no matter how weird or obscure it seems, just do it. It’s part of being his Overwatch. His brain works too quickly for him to always be able to explain, and refusing just steals precious time he might need to do whatever it is he’s doing, which could be the difference between life and death.”

“Got it,” Mac abruptly exclaimed. “Let’s see what good ole Sergei has to say for himself.” He held up his homemade parabolic microphone. With the help of Riley’s translation software, Mac was able to determine Sergei wasn’t discussing arranging the weapon’s drop; they were chest deep in the drop right then.

“We can’t let those weapons leave here,” Mac said. “We let them go, and they’re going to end up in the wrong hands. If we act fast, we can get Sergei, the weapons, and his new terrorist friend.”

“That’s not in our mission parameters,” Forester argued. “We’re supposed to collect the information and pass it on. That’s it.”

“Those _were_ the mission parameters. The mission has changed,” Mac informed him coolly. “As team leader I’m making the call.”

“And just how do you plan on pulling off this new operation of ours?” Forester’s sarcasm couldn’t have been thicker.

“Easy,” Mac said with a grin. “We’ll just improvise.”

* * *

And so it went for the next two months. Mac’s team was barely given time to breathe between the back-to-back missions. Each time things went even slightly askew, which was with familiar regularity, it became a fight between Mac and Forester about how they were going to accomplish the mission goals. Mac tried to take the higher road, and ignored Forester as much as possible, but even he had his limits. Things finally came to a head after a rescue mission in South America was almost blown due to Forester’s intractability. 

Forester, of course, was still on a tear when they got back to the states. 

“You were reckless,” he yelled at Mac as the team entered the War Room. “If that’s how you ‘lead,’ maybe someone else needs to take over that position.” He’d been going on like this since they completed the op and met up with exfil.

Mac, tired of the non-stop onslaught of verbal abuse, turned and got in Forester’s face. Nothing about him changed physically, but the atmosphere shifted as the Alpha came to the fore.

“And just who would be leader? You? I don’t think so.”

“Hey,” Matty bellowed, “break it up you two. What the hell is going on?”

“We had to make some adjustments to the op,” Mac told her, his gaze never moving from Forester’s, until the other man was forced to drop his eyes. Only then did Mac turned to face Matty. “Turned out, there were more men than our intel had informed us. There were also several human trafficking victims, including one American, on the premises. Forester’s pissed because I made the call to extract them too, instead of leaving them there. It took a little more improvisation than usual, but we all got out, and no one was hurt this time.”

“That’s not the point,” Forester argued. “Our mission was to rescue one person. One. This business of ‘improvising’ your way through a mission and ignoring the set parameters whenever you feel like it is sloppy and unprofessional. Probably what got Dalton killed. If so, he got what he deserved.”

“I suggest you shut that mouth before it gets you further in trouble,” Matty said before any of the others could respond. This was far from the first time Forester had insinuated Jack had merited what happened to him, and she, like Mac and the others, was fed up with it. “You may have been Oversight’s choice for this team, but you weren’t mine. Jack was one of my best field agents, and probably the most successful Overwatch, I’ve ever worked with. The man wasn’t perfect, but he was damn good at what he did. I’m not sure what Oversight was thinking, but it’s clear there’s no way you’re anywhere near capable of taking Jack’s place.”

“Great, so even the Director is falling all over herself to praise a man stupid enough to get himself killed on a simple transfer mission. You know, I’m surprised the man had time to sleep. The way pretty boy’s been moping around, I’m pretty sure he and Jack were knocking boots. I guess maybe he had to keep the boss happy too.”

“You’re not only out of line, but over it,” Matty told Forester coldly. “And as of right now, you’re suspended. Indefinitely.”

“You can’t do that,” Forester contended hotly. “Oversight gave me this position.”

“I don’t care if it was the President of the United States and Santa Clause combined,” Matty informed him. “You have made it abundantly clear over the past several months you are not a suitable match for this team. Right now, I’m not convinced you’re a suitable fit for any team under my authority. I will make that determination after a complete and thorough review of **all** of your past missions and team interactions. But as of this moment, you’re no longer a member of _this_ team. Now get yourself out of my War Room. I have a mission debrief to conduct. I’ll have someone get with you to schedule your own debrief in a couple of day. You’re dismissed.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't believe in begging for reviews, but I am asking for your help. I have the first 7 chapters of this story written, and the rest of it mapped out. I know where the story is going. I am just finding it hard to find the oomph to get it written. So, if you're enjoying this series, please let me know. Maybe that will motivate me to get the rest of this written.


	3. A Reckoning Still to be Reckoned

Following Forester’s loud, huffy departure, the debrief was relatively short and sweet. In the aftermath of the absent man’s tantrum, in addition the other elements at play, Matty had been more inclined to give the team a little more leeway. Not that they had needed it. Mac’s reasoning, once he was given the chance to lay it out, had been sound, and there had been virtually no collateral damage to speak of, even with Mac’s improvisation.

After the debrief, everyone was dismissed to head home. Bozer had been headed out the door when his lab supervisor had caught up with him. The usually unflappable man was the most flustered Bozer had ever seen him.

“Hey, Robert, take a deep breath and try again,” Bozer told him after the first stream of unintelligible words came flooding out of the other man.

Robert stopped, took the recommended breath, and tried again.

“I am in desperate need of your help,” he told Bozer, his usually subtle English accent growing more obvious in his distress. “Somehow, the entire prosthetics directory has fallen into a complete disarray.”

“Are we talking the digital catalogue, or the actual physical prosthetics themselves,” Bozer asked.

“Both! I had an agent come looking for a nose piece. None of the ones we had on hand gave the correct look she needed, but when she went to retrieve one from storage, all she found in the box were a bunch of eyebrows. When I came in to help, I thought maybe she had just accidentally written down the serial number incorrectly. But when looked it up by lot number, instead of noses, it gave me contact lenses. We were finally able to locate what she needed, but in the process we discovered every single item in every box has been shifted around, and the digital archive has been completely scrambled. I already have a couple of other technicians working to help straighten out the mess, but no one knows the prosthetics collection like you do.”

Bozer held back a sigh. It had been a long couple of days for this last mission, especially dealing with Forester’s know-it-all, this-isn’t-by-the-book attitude, but Robert was right. Given that Bozer had been the one to organize the collection in the first place, no one was as familiar with it as he was. The reorganization process would go much faster with his assistance. If nothing else, he’d be able to identify if anything was missing or destroyed beyond repair.

“All right,” Bozer conceded. “Give me a few minutes to let Mac know I won’t be home for a while, and to get something to eat. I’ll meet you down in the storage room.”

* * *

Even with Bozer’s help, it took nearly 3 days just to begin getting things into something resembling order, while Riley was busy trying to get the digital catalogue back up and running. As it turned out, whoever had jumbled the physical prosthetics hadn’t just swapped boxes; they had intermingled them, so that each box had to be emptied and re-sorted. It was during this process they discovered the problem was worse than they had first realized. Not only were all the prosthetics disseminated among all the various boxes, some pieces were missing altogether. So far they had identified 6 sets of eyebrows, 10 sets of contacts, and 3 sets of false cheekbones that all were missing half the set. This was in addition to the two complete sets of missing false teeth. Beyond that, there were numerous pieces that had been damaged beyond repair.

It was nearly at the end of day two of the clean-up when Bozer had a disturbing thought. He immediately went to Robert.

“So far all we’ve focused on is the basic prosthetic collection. Has anyone bothered to check the specialty library?”

Unlike the basic prosthetics, which were mostly meant to help agents conceal their identities by subtly changing their appearance and facial features, the specialty collection contained the heavy duty, movie-magic level prosthetics.

At the question, Robert blanched, and immediately sent Bozer to do just that. Upon first glance, everything seemed to be in order. The first two containers Bozer checked were neat and tidy, everything present. The next two weren’t. And so it went. Some boxes contained exactly what they were supposed to, others were just a jumbled disaster.

With a sigh, Bozer alerted Robert to the situation, and then he set about sorting the new mess.

* * *

While Bozer and Riley were busy trying to clean up the destruction wrought upon the prosthetic department, Mac busied himself in his lab. With Bozer gone long hours, Mac couldn’t stand being at the house alone. Too many reminders of Jack meant Mac tried to avoid being at the house to do much more than sleep. The rest of the time he tried to find activities to keep his mind otherwise occupied. He knew if he stopped too long, he was going to fall apart, and he wasn’t ready to face the emotional fallout just yet.

Mac was lost in his own creative world, so the sound of the door slamming open was an unwelcome surprise. Even more undesirable was the figure coming through the door.

“What do you want, Forester,” Mac asked, turning to meet the angry man’s gaze.

“You and I need to have a little talk,” Forester growled as he advanced on Mac.

“No, we really don’t,” Mac retorted, refusing the back away from the looming menace. “You’ve said more than I care to hear, and Matty’s told you all you need to know. I have nothing more to say to you.”

“Well, I have something to say to you,” Forester snarled, and he grabbed Mac by the front of his shirt. Whirling around he backed Mac up against the wall and slammed him into it. “I am not going to have some whiny, pathetic lab tech crybaby tell me what to do. You have no business being in the field, much less heading a team. It’s obvious you previous Overwatch let you get away with too much. Once Oversight corrects things and gets me reinstated, I’m going to make sure you learn your place.”

“You’re delusional. Now let me go,” Mac ordered. “Or else.”

“What are you going to do about it,” Forester taunted as he slammed Mac against the wall again, harder, bouncing his head off the concrete this time.

“I said-“ Mac grabbed the hands holding onto his shirt-“let me go!” And between heartbeats, and 7 ½ foot white, lupine man-creature stood where Mac had been, Forester dangling from his trapped wrists.

Forester sent a kick toward Mac’s belly. Mac twisted out of the way and dropped him to the floor. Forester climbed back to his feet and glared at Mac.

“So, you’re not just a whiny lab brat. You’re an abomination,” he spat. “I should have known; I’d heard rumors your Jack was a freak of nature. You monsters always did stick together. I guess this changes things.”

And without a further word, Forester stormed out of the lab.

* * *

“He did what,” Bozer exclaimed after Mac finished telling him and Riley about the confrontation with Forester. The trio had met up for a quick lunch. “Did you tell Matty?”

“I didn’t have to. She saw the whole thing on security cameras. Apparently she was having Forester tracked since she dismissed him the other day. A TAC team met him outside my lab and escorted him off the grounds. He’s been warned that if he come back again without permission, he’s going to be arrested on sight. She also informed Oversight she won’t be accepting any further interference in the make-up of her teams.”

“Ugh,” Riley suddenly exclaimed, slamming the lid of her laptop closed. The unexpected exclamation made her two companions jump. “Whoever did this ought to be shot!”

“Uh, Earth to Riley,” Bozer said. “Were you even listening? You know, Mac, Forester, less than pleasant confrontation?”

“Sorry, guys,” Riley apologized, resting her head in her hands. Her frustration was almost palpable. “I just can’t believe how much trouble cracking this scrambling program is giving me. The program itself is relatively simple, but the coding is some of the ugliest, most redundant and heavy-handed I have ever had the misfortune to come across. It is so needlessly complicated, it’s taking me days to do what should have taken me two hours, max.”

“Any clue who our slob might be,” Mac inquired between bites of sandwich.

“I’m still trying to untangle the original coding from the pig pen of a mess he left behind,” Riley said. “I haven’t had a chance to begin looking for the idiot coder who wrote the stupid thing, much less who uploaded it.”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to wipe the system and re-load the original program,” Bozer asked.

“It would, but then I’d lose any chance of tracking this loser down,” Riley replied. “I’d basically have to do a full reset, and that means all the security logs would be lost. We’d have no idea who initiated this whole situation, or when. Besides, by unwinding this ugly knot, I can determine ways to shore up our security for the future.”

“Take a break,” Mac recommended. “If anyone can do this, it’s you. You just don’t need to kill yourself trying to get it done.”

* * *

It was 10 pm on the fourth day of clean up before everything was back in order. In the end, the total loss was disheartening, but not as devastating as it might have been.

“So, I have the final tally,” Bozer told Robert as they locked up the storage room, engaging the new electronic lock Matty had authorized.

“What’s the damage?”

“We’ve completely lost one set of false teeth,” Bozer reported. “Along with five complete sets of contacts, three chins, and two sets of lips. In regard to partial sets, we have three eyebrows, two sets of contacts, and one set of cheekbones missing half the set. Unfortunately, a lot of what we did recover was damaged. Some of it is recoverable, but a lot isn’t.”

“And what about the specialty storage?”

“You really want to know?”

Robert sighed heavily. 

“No, but tell me anyway.”

“Everything left in its original case is fine. Everything else isn’t. I’m still trying to piece it all together. Literally. They were all shredded. However, there is one set I haven’t seen any sign of.”

That piqued Robert’s interest.

“Which one?”

Boze swallowed hard and said, “One meant to portray a burn victim. It’s very distinctive, but I haven’t found a single piece of it anywhere.”

“You don’t think…”

There was no need to finish the thought. It had crossed Bozer’s mind as soon as he realized which set was missing, but he’d immediately dismissed it. To allow himself to think otherwise was madness.

“No,” Bozer was quick to deny. “Medical verified the DNA, and Mac corroborated. I’m pretty sure this is just a sick coincidence.”

“Tell me you still believe that after you hear what Riley has to say.”

* * *

“No surprise, this was an inside job,” Riley informed Bozer and Mac. The three of them were tucked away in Mac’s lab. “The part I did find surprising, and a little too coincidental, was the timing of the break-in.” She met Mac’s eyes as she said, “It was the day we found out Jack’s plane had crashed.”

“There’s more,” Riley added as Mac and Bozer were trying to process the possible implications of her first revelation. “Robert was present when I discovered this next bit, but he wasn’t able to verify it. The authorization used to access the prosthetics catalogue, both the physical and digital ones, led back to one person. Guys, I’m pretty sure it was Oversight.”

The three friends looked at each other.

“I think it’s time we brought Matty in,” Mac said. “First, Oversight assigned Jack to that doomed mission. Then, they assign that jackass Forester to our team without a by-your-leave. And now we discover they most likely had a hand in this whole prosthetics debacle, including the loss of a specific burn victim set? Too many coincidences to be a coincidence.”

“You think she’s still here,” Riley asked.

“One way to find out,” Mac said.

The trio made their way to the admin level where Matty kept her office space. Matty was seated at her desk, though the tumbler in her hand revealed she wasn’t actually working.

“What are you troublemakers still doing here,” she asked as the threesome entered the room. She raised an eyebrow when Bozer closed the door behind them, but didn’t call him on it.

“We think we’ve found something,” Riley started. “A possible lead on the insider who has been screwing with us, but we need you to help us verify it.”

“Show me,” Matty directed.

Riley pulled up her laptop and showed Matty what she had discovered.

“What exactly am I looking at here,” Matty asked.

“Whenever someone logs into the system, their ID and verification codes are registered and recorded, for security reasons. Depending on your clearance level, you can only get so deep into the system; yours truly being an exception, obviously. Whoever uploaded that scrambling malware into the prosthetics database had to have more than basic admin clearance. So, once I finished untangling everything, I went looking for whichever verification code was used to access the system. I didn’t recognize the ID, but Robert thought he did. We think you need to see it, too.”

Matty looked at the access log, then back at Mac, Riley, and Bozer.

“You know who that number indicates, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

“We do,” Mac confirmed. “We just wanted to make sure.”

“Now, the question is, what do we do about it,” Riley said.

“Nothing tonight,” Matty said. “Think about it,” she said over her companions’ protests. “The past two months have been hell for you guys. We lost Jack, yet you were immediately sent back out without any proper time to grieve. Mac, you’ve been dealing with that idiot Forester riding your case, and the past several days Riley and Bozer have been neck deep in cleaning up this other mess. You can’t tell me any of you are in any fit state right now for this confrontation. So here’s what you’re going to do. Go home. Spend tomorrow recovering a little. Get yourselves in the right frame of mind. In two days we will reconvene here in my office, and together we will beard the Oversight dragon in its den. And you’d better believe, there’s going to be hell to pay.”


	4. Then it All Went Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far this has been one of my favorite chapters to write. I hope y'all enjoy it as much as I did.

After leaving Matty’s office, the three operatives went their separate ways. But while Riley and Bozer headed straight home, Mac just couldn’t. Now, more than ever, he wanted Jack. Usually, this would be the point he’d be trying to talk Jack out of paying Oversight a visit, regardless of what Matty had ordered. Instead, Mac felt adrift. Directionless. He wanted to be furious at Oversight, and he knew if he thought about it long enough he would be. But right now, all Mac felt was tired and empty.

Sitting in the driver’s seat of his Jeep, Mac considered paying Jack’s grave a visit, despite the late hour. But visits to the cemetery had been Jack’s thing. The older man might have found solace in talking to his father’s headstone, but all Mac had ever been able to see was a chunk of lifeless stone. Jack had always been too warm, too full of life. Sculpted angels and cold monuments just seemed to be the wrong sort of companions for him. Instead, Mac started the vehicle and headed to Jack’s apartment.

The apartment hadn’t been touched since Jack’s death. The rent was on autopay, and Mac had paid the utilities the past several months; and with all the missions they’d been on since his death, it wasn’t like they’d had time to do anything with it anyway. No way were Mac and Riley letting strangers handle the task of packing up and closing the place out. So when Mac arrived, everything inside was exactly as Jack had left it. After locking up for the night, Mac spent a long while just wandering through the apartment. Every so often he’d stop to softly touch one item or another, memories of Jack and happier times filling his thoughts. Mac held it together well enough, until he got to the bedroom. He wasn’t expecting to find the plain envelope on the made bed, his name written across it in Jack’s familiar scrawl.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Mac just held the envelope in shaking hands for an indeterminate amount of time, debating whether he was going to open it or not. Finally, the need to “hear” Jack’s voice one last time pushed him to action. With trembling fingers, he opened the envelope and extracted the single sheet of paper. As he began to read, it was almost like Jack was talking in his ear.

_Hey kiddo. This is Jack. Well, duh, guess you know that already, huh? Not sure why I felt impressed to write this letter to you, and if you’re reading it something pretty bad must have happened. I bet, right about now, you’re really hurting. You don’t know how much I wish I could be there for you. If there is any justice in this world, no matter how much pain you might be feeling emotionally, you’ll at least be okay otherwise. You, Riley, and even Bozer. Mac, I just want you to know how much I love you, kid. Hopefully I’ve told you this before, so you’ll have actually heard me say it, but I need you to know it now, more than ever. I know I promised I would never leave you, and I am so, so sorry I broke that promise. Please believe I didn’t do it on purpose. I would never leave you if I had any say in the matter. I hope you know that._

_I’m not going to get into the nitty gritty about what to do with my stuff; that’s not what this letter is about. What I need for you to do is not blame yourself. Whatever went down, however I met my end, it wasn’t your fault. You saved my life long ago, and it has been my honor to watch your back ever since. You are the best thing to ever happen to me. So, listen up. Cry. Scream. Throw things, break things. Whatever you need to do to let the hurt out. Talk to someone, anyone. But then I need you to take a deep breath. Hold your head up, and keep living. Let others in. Find someone new to let in and trust. And know, no matter where you go, no matter where you are, I’ll never be far away._

_Jack_

By the end of the letter, Mac had tears rolling unheeded down his face. The silent tears continued to build and build, until Mac was sobbing loudly. Strength leaving him, Mac slid off the bed onto his knees, the letter slipping from his hand to flutter softly to the floor.

“It’s not fair,” Mac mumbled into the carpet. Then, louder, as he pounded his fist on the floor, “It’s not fair! Why did it have to be Jack? There are so many mean, nasty people out there. Why wasn’t it one of them? Someone like Murdoc or…or the Ghost, or any one of the hundreds of terrorists we’ve faced. No needs them. The world wouldn’t even miss them. But I need Jack!”

Suddenly furious, Mac sprang to his feet and proceeded to tear the bedding apart. With no heed for the sleeping neighbors he might be disturbing, Mac screamed and shouted as he tossed and kicked and threw the blankets and pillows around the room. Then, just as abruptly as it had started, the emotional storm was over, and Mac fell, exhausted and boneless, onto the bed. Wrapping his arms around the single pillow still there, Mac buried his face in it, surround himself in the fading but still present scent of Jack. Silent tears trickled from his eyes, but he was too spent to even wipe them away. Eventually, his eyes fluttered shut, and he faded into sleep.

* * *

The next day, after Mac finally woke up, was spent in like manner. A seemingly endless circle of tears, anger, melancholy and sleep took up the day as Mac finally allowed himself to feel all the emotions he had pushed aside since Jack’s death. Finally, as late afternoon rolled around, Mac began to feel like the worst of the emotional tempest was over. Never had he been gladder that Jack insisted he keep at least two complete changes of clothes at his place. Tired and sore, Mac took a shower and gratefully changed into clean clothes. He only hesitated a moment before discarding his own shirt for Jack’s fifth favorite Metallica t-shirt. With an appetite for the first time all day, Mac placed an order Chinese take away, though he nearly broke down again when it dawned on him he’d just ordered his and Jack’s usual, and then remembered Jack wasn’t around to help him eat it.

After eating and putting the leftovers in the fridge, Mac locked up and turned off all the lights. With blanket wrapped around his shoulders, he huddled up on the couch. Then, in the safety and silence of the dark room, Mac began to talk.

“Jack, I don’t know if you can hear me wherever you are. I don’t even know if there _is_ a ‘wherever.’ I hope there is. I hope you found your dad. I’m sure he was so proud of you. I have to admit, if you did meet up, I’m a little jealous. It’s probably a horrible thing to say, but I would rather have you here with me. I…I don’t know if I can do this without you. I hadn’t realized just how much I relied on having you at my back. I love Boze and Riley, but it’s just not the same.

“We’re going to confront Oversight tomorrow. To use Bozer’s word, something really hinky has been going on at the Phoenix, and Oversight is right in the middle of it. I’m sure you’re not surprised. Hey, maybe you can drop by tomorrow when we storm the office. I’m sure you’d get a kick out of it. If anyone deserves to be haunted, I’m pretty sure Oversight does. You should have seen the feeble excuse for an Overwatch they tried to push off on us as your ‘replacement.’ Don’t worry, Matty finally kicked him to the curb. His attitude and behavior were atrocious. You’d have hated him on sight.

“I miss you jack. I really, really miss you. And I know I didn’t tell you this often enough, certainly not as often as you probably needed, and I’m so sorry about that. I love you, Jack. You said I saved your life, but I think you saved mine, too. And not just by being my Overwatch. You kept me sane after everything Murdoc did to me. I was able to heal because you helped keep all my pieces in place until I could do it myself. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that. Yeah, yeah, I can just hear you saying I didn’t need to, because we’re family. Family looks after each other. Well, I can’t be there to look after you right now. You’re going to have to do that yourself until I can come find you. And you have my word, that won’t be anytime soon. But when it’s time, be on the lookout for me, will you? Love you, big guy.”

* * *

The next morning, Mac was up and out the door before dawn. Still emotionally worn out, Mac felt better than he had since his world went sideways. He drove through the quiet streets back to his place, mind pleasantly quiet. Once home, Mac considered going back to bed, but decided to go for a run instead, the call of the physical exertion more enticing than a too quiet room. After quickly changing clothes, and leaving a note for Bozer, Mac was out the door and headed down the road.

Knowing he wasn’t up to a long run, Mac kept to a moderate five mile route. He had just made the turn, and was headed back home, when he felt an unexpected stinging sensation in his neck. He barely had time to recognize the tranquilizer dart in his hand, before the world went dark, and he collapsed to the ground.


	5. Master of the House

Forester watched with exuberant glee as Macgyver hit the ground, out cold from the heavy duty tranquilizer he’d been hit with. Patting him down, Forester located and disposed of Mac’s phone. He wasn’t going to make it that easy for anyone at Phoenix to track them down. He paid no heed to the fitness tracker Mac wore around his wrist. Forster then picked his insensate former teammate up and slung him over his shoulder. A short walk to his car, and Forester deposited Mac in his trunk, but only after binding his hands and feet. The drive to the secure location was only about 30 minutes, but in order to avoid any traffic cameras, the route Forester was forced to take took twice that. Mac was only beginning to stir when Forester pulled him from the trunk. Forester grinned. That was fine; he still had plenty of time to set things up before Mac was fully awake. Slinging the blond over his shoulder, Forester hauled him into the building.

* * *

When Mac woke up, it was to a pounding headache, so it took him a moment to really take in his surroundings. The first thing he became fully aware of was his lack of clothes. Unlike last time, at least he was still in his boxers. Still, the similarity to his time with Murdoc was disconcerting, and almost enough to set off a panic attack. It took Mac a minute to realize was that he was lying on a bed, a collar around his throat. That’s when the panic really did set in. After several minutes of clawing at it, Mac was forced to face the fact that the heavy metal collar wasn’t coming off without some help. Forcing himself to take a few deep breaths, Mac began to take note of his surrounding beyond the bed he was chained to. That’s when he noticed the large flat-screen TV on the wall at the end of the bed. It was what was being shown on the screen that sent his panic into overdrive. There, in all it’s gory detail, was the video of he and Murdoc.

As if him noticing the TV was some sort of signal, the room was suddenly filled with the accompanying audio. Mac began to tremble, then gag, as the sounds of his assault filled the room. Instinctively, he made to Change, but the collar around his neck must have been iron, for the attempt was aborted as quickly as it came, leaving Mac gasping for breath.

“Glad we got that out of the way,” a voice came from a doorway Mac hadn’t noticed in his panic. At first, Mac was certain Murdoc had come back to torment him once again, but as he got himself back under control he realized the tenor and tone of the voice were all wrong.

“Forester,” Mac rasped.

The larger man stepped fully into the room, and paused a moment to nonchalantly watch the action taking place on the television screen. For his part, Mac closed his eyes and tried to block out the sounds of him crying and pleading with his abuser.

“You know, I thought it was your precious Jack you were giving it up to,” Forester commented. “I didn’t realize just how deep your vile monster fetish really was.”

“That was rape, you sick bastard” Mac spat at him. 

“Doesn’t sound like rape to me,” Forester said as the Mac on the screen was forced to beg Murdoc for his attention.

“Where did you even get this video,” Mac demanded, steadfastly doing his best to ignore the television. “Riley destroyed all copies of it.”

“She destroyed all the digital copies,” Forester corrected. “Including the originals. Or so I was told. However, two hard copies of the entire, sordid affair were burned before her purge. This is one of them. And you had better get used to seeing it; it will be playing on repeat while you’re my…guest.”

“Why are you doing this,” Mac asked. “Were you so pissed off about getting kicked off the team you thought you’d do this for some sort of sick revenge?”

“Are you really that naïve?”

When Mac could only look at him in confusion, Forester began to laugh.

“Oh, this is better than I thought.”

Then, before Mac could blink, Forester had leaned forward and did…something that sent a blaze of pain through his body. While Mac was distracted by the pain and unable to focus, Forester set about tying his wrists and ankles. By the time the pain had died down to pins and needles, he was secured spread eagle to the bed. Mac yanked and pulled, but the bonds were too tight.

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Forester began running a soft hand up and down Mac’s arm, ratcheting up Mac’s panic. 

“Easy there,” Forester crooned. “You don’t have anything to fear. Yet. But we have a lot to talk about, and it’ll be better for both of us this way. Wouldn’t want you to get distracted by something as pointless as trying to fight back.”

Forcing himself to stop panicking, Mac could only lie on the bed panting slightly.

“Much better,” Forester praised. To Mac’s revulsion, Forester began to softly trace the various scars littering Mac’s body. His touch was wasn’t sexual or fondling in any way. It was just a single finger, softly tracing along each scar scoring Mac’s body as he spoke.

“Let me tell you a little story,” Forester said. “Once upon a time, there was a very powerful man. Let’s call him Oversight. He did his best to protect the world from monsters, both human and otherwise. He even started a powerful, secret organization to fight evil in all its forms. He collected the best of the best from all over the country and beyond, from soldiers to scientists, each with a skill he could use to keep the world safe. And then one of this man’s assets began to…go off script, if you will.” At this point, Forester’s finger was on Mac’s belly, outlining both the scars from Murdoc’s final attack, and the puncture marks left by his tongue. Although not painful, Mac couldn’t stop the slight whimper he let out at the unwelcome touch.

“This individual was brilliant,” Forester continued, grinning exultantly at the soft noise, “and extremely useful, but he preferred doing things his own way. To the Oversight’s dismay, this resource put his devotion to someone else ahead of his loyalty to his employer. Even worse, the man his asset had bonded himself to had become an inhuman monster. And still, the asset remained loyal to his freak. So Oversight set out to show his asset the error of his ways by hiring a monster to try and scare him back into his place.”

Mac’s eyes went wide as he looked from Forester, to the screen showcasing his abuse at Murdoc’s hands, and back to Forester.

“Oversight allowed…that,” Mac asked. “All of it?”

“Oh, he more than allowed it,” Forester said. “He set it up. Well, to be honest, he contracted with Murdoc to complete a few other tasks, and paid him with you. His only caveat was Murdoc wasn’t permitted to kill you, and he had to record the whole thing, in as much detail as possible, with Overwatch having sole access to the recording.”

Mac blanched. “Overwatch ordered him to record it? Everything?” His voice was a grating whisper. “Why?”

“Punishment, mostly,” Forester replied. “But also insurance. You chose that aberration, Dalton, over your loyalty and responsibilities to Phoenix. You had to be shown your place. I think Oversight was hoping Dalton would forsake you when he found out what Murdoc had done to you. He thought your oh, so loyal Overwatch would walk away if he saw you as Murdoc’s willing plaything, which is why he released the videos and pictures to the public. Only Jack didn’t abandon you; he dug in deeper.”

“Guess he really didn’t know Jack,” Mac quipped.

“Guess he didn’t,” Forester agreed, either ignoring, or ignorant of, the play on words. “The man is the most ridiculously steadfast and loyal SOB I’ve ever seen. Personally, I think Oversight mishandled that whole situation. If it had been me, I’d have killed Dalton while you were in Murdoc’s hands. You see, Oversight was hoping your time with Murdoc would make you a bit more pliant. More obedient, if you will. He wanted Murdoc to break you down, to shred your sense of self and self-worth enough you’d separate yourself from your little ‘pack’. Then we would have swooped in and put you back together the way we needed. Only, good old Jack stepped in and saved you. Of course, Oversight wasn’t expecting Murdoc to try and kill you, so Jack ended up serving a beneficial purpose after all. At least, for a while.”

“What does that mean?”

“We’ll get into that later,” Forester told him. “First, we have other business to discuss. I was sent to give you a choice. It’s rather straightforward. Oversight wants you back under control. He feels you’ve been allowed to run wild long enough. I was sent to reign you back in, but we saw how well that worked. Now we have to take more extreme measures. Not to be cliché, but we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. The easy way is simple: you sign the contract you prevented Jack from signing. From then on out, you’d be under my authority, following the orders given by Oversight and myself. Of course,” he placed his hand on Mac’s thigh, thumb brushing across the scars, “that would require you to occasionally play nice with some of our more…particular and exacting allies, but nothing you haven’t already experienced before. You’ve already had a practice run with Murdoc. We’d guarantee it any future engagements wouldn’t approach the level of depravity or damage he subjected you to, obviously. It wouldn’t do to have such a useful _ass-_ et too badly misused. Or we can go the hard way. If you refuse I’m free to use whatever means necessary to secure your compliance. Also, the little ‘favors’ you’d be called on to do will be a lot less pleasant if we have to force the issue.”

“What’s to stop me from saying I agree, and then doing my own thing anyway?”

“The contract was created by a witch,” Forester informed him. “Since it will require a blood signature, it will be magically binding. I don’t know the particulars, but I’m told the consequences of reneging on such an agreement are rather nasty.”

“So, either I consent to indenture myself, and willingly act as your on-call whore, or you can try and force me to acquiesce, and I still get raped for my troubles.” Mac gave Forester a defiant glare. “Well, I’m not going to agree, so do your worst.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”


	6. A Song of Angry Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Attempted rape in this chapter. It's not graphic, and nothing actually happens, but it is threatened.

Unlike the house Murdoc had used, this one apparently didn’t have a basement. But Forester, or maybe it was Oversight, had planned for that. It was obvious the room they were in had been specially designed for the precise purpose Forester was putting it to, because it had had hook firmly fastened to the ceiling. Using the same painful maneuver he’d employed earlier, Forester was able to get Mac off the bed and strung up by his hand, his toes barely touching the floor.

As the pain once again subsided, Mac just scowled at his captor.

“This isn’t going to change anything,” he told Forester. “I’m never going to sign that contract.”

“We’ll just see about that,” Forester said as he stripped out of his shirt, purposefully leaving his muscular chest bare. Mac had to fight back the impulse to giggle. His inner Jack wanted to ask if he was supposed to be impressed, scared, or turned on by the sight.

“Now, I’ve been granted complete flexibility in how I obtain your compliance,” Forester said, expertly wrapping his hands as he spoke. “Short of killing and permanently maiming you, I can do whatever is necessary if it will gain your submission. How far I have to go is up to you.”

And with that, the beating began. Unlike Murdoc, Forester took no pains to avoid Mac’s face, and Mac soon had a black eye and a broken nose to show for it. After a particularly hard hit to the head, he lost track of the blows. Given Forester’s background in the martial arts, it was obvious he knew how to cause pain without creating excess damage. Blows landed repeatedly on ribs with bruising force, but never enough to break bone. Mac could feel the fire in his abs where soft tissue was damaged, but not the deeper pain of internal injuries. Blow after blow landed, until Forester was covered in a light sweat, and Mac was one giant ache.

“That was just the warm-up,” Forester told Mac, taking sip from his water bottle. From his nonchalant attitude, he might as well have been taking a break from his workout at the gym. “I already know your answer, but I’ll ask anyway. You ready to sign yet?”

Mac’s answer was simply to spit blood at Forester’s feet and glare at him.

“Fine. Let’s get ready for round two.”

To Mac’s surprise, he didn’t immediately start back in with the beating. Instead, he turned Mac around so he was facing the TV, still showing the revolting film of Murdoc’s exploitation.

“I’ll be right back,” Forester told him. “I need to que up the proper footage before we get started.”

Mac’s eye went wide as he recognized the lead-in to one of the lengthiest, and foulest, assaults he’d experienced at Murdoc’s hands.

“There, that’ll give you something to focus on while we do this,” Forester said. Mac barely had time to identify the object in his hand as a riding crop before the first blow landed. Fire blazed across his back. Then his shoulders. His buttocks. His thighs. Over and over the blows landed. The pace wasn’t fast, but it was steady. It took Mac a while to realize Forester was keeping time with the action on the screen, following the tempo of Murdoc’s violation with every blow of the whip. A distant part of Mac’s mind sickly wondered how many times Forester had watched these videos to be this familiar with them.

By the time the action on the television, and the abuse on his body, were complete, blood was dripping from Mac’s back. Every movement hurt, and Mac could only hang limply from his wrists, unable to hold himself up any longer. When Forester released the ropes tied around his swollen, bleeding wrists, he collapsed to the floor.

“So,” Forester panted, exertion from the extended workout leaving him slightly winded, “ready to concede yet?”

“Never,” Mac grunted.

“Very well. If physical punishment won’t convince you, maybe it’s time I take a page from our friend Murdoc’s book.”

With a ripping sound, Mac’s shredded boxers were stripped from him. Forester then picked him and flung his battered body onto the bed. Too sore to move, Mac was unable to prevent his hands and feet from once more being secured to the bed posts. And yet, even as Forester stripped out of the remainder of his clothes, Mac felt no fear or trepidation.

“You don’t scare me,” he hissed at Forester as the man climbed on top of him. “I’ve already survived this nightmare once, and I can tell you’re nothing but empty threats.”

“Empty threats, huh? Who’s the one naked and tied up?”

Mac snorted. “Raping someone is about arrogance and power. It requires you to have a superiority complex such that you feel entitled to anything someone else has, even their body; you don’t have that. You’re nothing more than Oversight’s pathetic lapdog lackey. Why else would Oversight use you? He knew you’d kiss his boot if he just snapped his fingers. You said it yourself. You preferred to have a dominant partner in the bedroom. And we both know who’s the Alpha in _this_ room.”

“Shut up,” Forest screamed, slapping Mac across the face. Still straddling Mac’s hips, he sat back on his heels. “You’re just like that stupid bitch. She was a Wolf too, you know. The Alpha of her pack. Things were going great until the day I walked in to find her screwing one of her Betas in our bed. And when I confronted her, she just laughed in my face.”

Mac gave a taunting laugh. “See, you were so pitiful, you couldn’t even keep your girlfriend satisfied. And you think I ought to be scared of you?”

“What you ought to be scared of is what Oversight will try next if you don’t fall in line.”

“What are you babbling about now,” Mac huffed.

“You foolish, foolish boy,” Forester growled. “You realize if I can’t get you to agree, Oversight might have to take more extreme measures. Perhaps another one of your friends will have to pay the price. You see, Jack’s usefulness ran out when he turned you into a freak as well. Oversight was furious about that, so he set things in motion to get Jack out of the way.”

Mac gaped at him as the implication of what he was saying set in.

“Oversight had Jack killed?”

“Ding, ding, ding, give the man a prize,” Forester mocked, sing-song. “Down came the plane, taking Jack-y out. At least as far you were aware. I’ve heard rumors Jack wasn’t actually killed. But wherever he might be, you’ll never see him again.”

“You’re lying,” Mac accused.

“You only wish,” Forester retorted. “He knew you’d never be vulnerable enough to influence until Dalton was out of the picture, so he had to go. If you don’t give us what we want, who knows who will go next. Give me what I want, and I’ll not only make sure your other two friends are safe, I’ll ensure you’re told exactly what happened to Jack. Who knows, you might even get his actual body back to bury for real.”

No physical changes took place, but it was clearly the Alpha who responded.

“Not only will I never join you, I’m going to make you regret ever aligning yourself with Oversight. And when I’m done with you, I’m going to find Jack, and bring him home.”

With another shriek of terror-fueled rage, Forester began to beat his fists into Mac’s face and chest again, this time take no care to control his strength. He wasn’t as the best angle, still sitting atop Mac as he was, but that didn’t prevent him from cracking and bruising several ribs in his anger.

Finally, rage spent, Forester climbed off of Mac and redressed himself. Grabbing Mac by the hair, he stared into his bruised, swollen, nigh unrecognizable features.

“Sign the papers, you foul creature, or else.”

Only partially aware, Mac still found the wherewithal to firmly shake his head no.

“Fine, play it that way,” Forester snarled. Letting Mac’s head drop back to the mattress, he stomped across the room to what turned out to be a hidden wall safe. From the interior, he pulled a syringe and a bottle of silver-tinted liquid.

“Oversight said it might come down to this. I wasn’t supposed to kill you, unless you demonstrated your inner monster was too strong to be controlled. It’s a pity you couldn’t have been more agreeable. I’ve been told silver poisoning is as painful a way to kill a Wolf as can be found.”

As the obviously irrational man filled the syringe with the colloidal silver, Mac held back the news that, as a Faoladh, he had a different reaction to silver than most Wolves. Rather than the long, drawn out death Forester was aiming for, it would more likely be a comparatively quicker, miserable death due to anaphylaxis. 

Mac held his breath as the shot was administered, then let it out when nothing immediately happened. Five minutes later, there was still no sign of reaction.

“I don’t understand,” Forester muttered as Mac simply lay bleeding and bruised on the bed. “Why aren’t you reacting? You really are a freak of nature.” He pulled a gun from beneath the bed. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to do this the old fashioned way.”

He put the gun to Mac’s head, and a shot rang out, nearly deafening in the small space.

Mac cried out in disgust and alarm as blood and brain matter splattered him. 

“Easy there, blondie, “ a familiar voice called from the doorway. Mac turned wide eyes to see Matty standing there, her service weapon still up in the firing position. 

Mac gave her a wan smile.

“Took you long enough.”


	7. So Dark and Deep, the Secrets That You Keep

Mac was in and out of consciousness as the medical team Matty had brought with her got him ready for transport. In place of Jack’s usual, calming presence to help keep him grounded, Mac was relieved to have both Bozer and Riley waiting for him when he arrived at Medical.

“The what’s, why’s, and wherefores will have to wait,” Dr. Ryan told Mac’s two concerned packmates. “I want to get Mac cleaned up a bit, and maybe get some IV fluids in him before I have him attempt to Change. That should take care of most, if not all, of his wounds.”

“Just to let you know, doc, Forester injected me with an unknown amount of colloidal silver,” Mac reported as he was being whisked away to the treatment room.

Dr. Ryan frowned. “You’re not showing signs of silver poisoning or an allergic reaction. How long ago was this?”

“30, maybe 45 minutes.”

“You should definitely be showing signs, then. We were going to run a blood panel anyway; I’ll have them specifically check for silver. Since you’re not showing any negative reaction at this point, we’ll stick to the treatment plan we have in place, and adjust as any issues arise.”

* * *

When Riley and Bozer were finally permitted to see Mac they were alarmed to see him still looking as beat up as he had when he first arrived. The addition of the nasal canula was an unwelcome sight.

“I’m okay,” Mac assured him worried friends when he saw the upset looks on their faces.

“He actually is this time,” Dr. Ryan confirmed.

“Then why does he still look like you went a couple rounds with a rancor,” Bozer asked him.

“We suspect it has something to do with the large amount of silver Mac was interjected with,” Dr. Ryan said. “For whatever reason, as long as Mac remains in human form, the silver remains inert and has no effect on him. If anything, his body is slowly but surely eliminating it from his system more effectively than yours or mine. However, as soon as he attempted to Change, the allergic reaction set in, abruptly and violently. Fortunately Mac was able to revert back to human form, and the reaction stopped. We have him on oxygen, just for a little while, to get his 02 levels back up.”

Riley took a seat on the edge of Mac’s bed and wrapped a hand around the one he held out to her. He still wasn’t completely comfortable with physical contact, especially when it was someone other than Jack touching him, but he was slowly getting better. Especially when he was the one initiating the contact. Riley was just glad this latest incident hadn’t set his recovery in that area back.

“So what does that mean for you,” she asked Mac.

“He’s going to have to heal the old fashioned way, at least until all the silver is out of his system,” Dr. Ryan responded after Mac deferred the question to him.

“How is he going to know when that happens,” Bozer asked. “Is he going to have to come in for blood tests every couple of days or something?”

“Actually, I can feel, or maybe sense is a better term for it, the silver in my bloodstream,” Mac said. “Ever since our meeting with Mab, it seems I’ve had a stronger awareness of the metal around me. In fact, I didn’t even realize how… sensitive I’ve become to metal until this happened.”

“So what exactly does that mean,” Bozer asked. “Are you like a real life version of Magneto or something?”

“Not quite,” Mac chuckled. “If I’m interpreting the signals correctly, it means I might be able to speed up the process of eliminating the silver from my system, just a little bit.” He closed his eyes and focused. His body went tense, and began to tremble just slightly. It took a long moment, but eventually a small ball of silver, slightly smaller than the size of a pea, eventually formed in the palm of Mac’s hand. Mac’s hand dropped, while he was breathing hard from the exertion.

“Okay,” he panted, “that might take a little practice. Imagine if I got good enough to remove a bullet.”

“While that is quite impressive, and potentially useful,” Dr. Ryan interjected, “I would not recommend trying it more than every few days. It’s obvious it takes a lot out of you, and you need all the energy you can get to heal up.”

“I agree,” Matty stated as she came through the doorway. “I know I can’t stop you from using this new skill, but please be careful with it.”

“As interesting as it is, what’s happening to me right now isn’t as important as what’s happening to Jack,” Mac said.

Matty, Riley, and Bozer exchanged worried looks.

“Jack’s dead, remember,” Riley said gently.

“I don’t think he really is,” Mac insisted.

“Mac-“

“No, listen,” Mac persisted. “While I was with Forester, he suggested Jack was just taken, not killed.”

“Mac,” Bozer chided. “Forester was just trying to get to you. You can’t believe anything he said.”

“But what if he was right,” Mac said. “I can’t leave Jack to whatever they’re doing to him. He wouldn’t if it was any of us. Hell, Matty, it _was_ me when Murdock had me. Jack had no reason to think he’d find me when that call came in. But he went anyway.”

“And just how do you suggest we go about finding Jack,” Riley asked. “We wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“I know someone who does,” Mac said darkly. “Oversight. Everything we’ve gone through in the past several months has all been Oversight’s doing. He arranged my time with Murdoc and released those pictures and videos of what Murdoc did to me.”

“That reminds me; I found the DVD’s,” Matty cut in. “Don’t worry. I’ll dispose of them personally.”

Mac nodded his head and continued. “Oversight has been trying to force my compliance ever since I prevented them from gaining Jack’s. And when nothing worked, he took Jack away too.”

“Wait a minute,” Bozer interjected. “The missing prosthetic, the specialty one. It was designed specifically to mimic a burn victim. I dismissed it as a nasty coincidence, but what if it wasn’t? What if the mess made of the prosthetic’s storage was to slow down the discovery of its theft, or to disguise it somehow.”

“Then it was sloppy job,” Mac said. “He that had been all he had taken, we might not have noticed for months. By doing what he did, and jumbling up the whole collection, we found it a lot sooner. But I think I’ve pissed Oversight off enough he’s getting more and more careless. This whole mess with Forester trying to strong arm me into signing my life away just screams desperation. There were too many ways it could have gone wrong. For example, Forester ditched my phone, but not my fitness tracker. I’m guessing that’s how you found me?”

“Once we realized you were missing,” Riley said. “Sorry it took us so long, by the way. We didn’t realize you were gone until it was time to meet up with Matty and you didn’t show. We eventually found your note about going for a run; it had somehow ended up under the table. It didn’t take long to get a fix on your position. Actually, it was putting together a team Matty felt she could trust that took the longest.”

“You found me and Matty permanently stopped Forester before he could kill me,” Mac said. “We’re good. But we still owe Oversight a visit.” 

With a groan, he sat up and removed the canula.

“What do you think you’re doing,” Matty demanded.

“Oversight has a lot to answer for. I’m not waiting another minutes to start asking the questions.”

“You need to stay here and rest,” Matty countered. “Riley, Bozer, and I can handle Oversight.”

“I have to be there, Matty,” Mac not-quite-pleaded/not-quite-demanded. “All of this is because of me; because Oversight seems fixated on controlling and manipulating me for whatever reason. I need to face him myself.”

Matty and Mac stared at each other for a long moment. Matty finally nodded her head.

“I agree; it’s time. But Mac, there’s something you should know before we storm Oversight’s lair. I couldn’t tell you this before because I was working with Director Thornton to gather enough evidence to take Oversight down, and we couldn’t risk our investigation becoming compromised.”

“Thornton? I thought she was arrested as a traitor,” Riley interjected.

“She was set up,” Matty said. “But we let everyone think it was true so she could investigate, off the radar, who was behind it. Everything kept pointing to Oversight, but we just couldn’t get any proof. Maybe, now that Oversight is becoming so erratic about Mac, and Mac’s witness that he set up two separate kidnappings, and an attempted prolicide, we can finally get what we need to take him down for good. But that leads to the information I need to tell you, that I couldn’t share earlier.”

Matty looked Mac straight in the face and said, “You see, Mac, Oversight is none other than James MacGyver; your father.”

* * *

Oversight was his father. The emotional and mental ramifications of that statement had yet to fully hit Mac. And for right now, he couldn’t let them. He took a minute to allow his thoughts to adjust to the idea, to adapt his mental schema to the new information, and to accept the truth of what Matty had revealed. Then he shoved it all into a mental box, locked it down as tight as he could, and moved on.

Dr. Ryan hadn’t even bothered trying to talk Mac out of leaving Medical. He’d overheard enough to know he had very little chance of succeeding. He simply handed Mac his discharge papers, a bag of supplies, and wished him luck. Then, dressed in his sneakers, a pair of Jack’s too short sweat pants, and one of Jack’s oversized t-shirt, which Bozer had voluntarily retrieved from Jack’s locker, and not caring the least how silly he must look, Mac stiffly and painfully followed Matty out of examination room and down the hall.

The area of the building Matty led the small group to was one Mac had never been to before. Given the circuitous route Matty took them to get there, Mac suspected that was by design. Finally, though, they seemed to reach their destination. Before them was rather innocuous glass door; the same privacy glass used in the War Room. There was no sign on the door, no receptionist outside. It could have been practically any door in the building. The only indication something important was behind it was the electronic keypad mounted next to the door. Matty entered in a long, 12-digit code. The door beeped, and she turned the handle.

Mac paid very little heed to the office itself. He attention was only for the man sitting behind the desk in the middle of the room. Oversight; his father.

“Matilda, what do you think you’re doing,” Oversight inquired without even bothering to look up from his computer as the quartet filed into the room.

“I think that’s a question you need to answer,” Matty said. “It seems you’ve been busy, James.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you sure about that? Father?” Mac scowled at the older man sitting behind the desk. At his voice, the older man finally looked up from whatever he was doing on his computer.

“Really, Angus, no need to be melodramatic. I am quite certain there is nothing in my conduct anyone would find the least bit objectionable.”

“So you’re saying Joe-Blow off the street would have no problem with you hiring sycophantic wanna-be to try and beat your son into submission and sexual servitude, and then try to kill him when he didn’t agree?” Mac ignored his companions’ exclamations of disgust and surprise at his revelation; he had forgotten they hadn’t heard that part yet. Knowing he’d have some explaining to do later, he kept going. “Or maybe it was the original psychopath you hired and used me as payment for, who you allowed to rape and torture me no one would object to.” His attention never wavered from his father. The older man didn’t even flinch.

“While the actions of Mr. Murdoch and Mr. Forester were vile and loathsome, I’m sure people would understand their necessity,” James countered. “You needed to be taught a lesson and brought back in line. People understand the need to discipline one’s offspring.”

“Never mind that I am an adult, and rather beyond requiring a parent’s control of my life,” Mac said. “Besides, you can’t be unhappy with my behavior as your son; you haven’t been a part of my life since I was ten. If you were displeased with my behavior as an employee, you should have arranged a meeting with HR or my supervisor. At worst, you could have fired me. Last I checked, sexual assault wasn’t in the approved employee manual.”

“So we can be clear,” Matty interjected. “You are admitting you hired both Murdoc and Forester to kidnap, detain, and assault one of our employees?”

“I hired them to assist in correcting my son,” James countered. “His employment status had nothing to do with it.”

“And what about Jack,” Mac demanded. “Was his disappearance your doing as well? Was that some new form of ‘discipline’ too?”

“His disposal was necessary,” James said coolly. “You had not only become entirely too dependent on that freak of nature, you allowed him to infect you. It became essential that I remove his unsuitable influence from your life before you became any further contaminated.”

“What did you do with him, James,” Mac demanded. “Where is he?”

“Dead,” James replied blandly, continuing to maintain his attention on his computer. “I’m sure you were at the funeral.”

“I don’t think so,” Mac contradicted. “I have reason to believe you faked his death, and that you’ve got him squirreled away somewhere. As much as you obviously despise him, a relative clean death like that plane crash was too easy. No, you’d want to hurt him, make him suffer for the audacity of having a place in your son’s life. So where is he?”

James looked Mac square in the face and smirked. “Does it matter? I won’t tell, and you’ll never find him.”

“I beg to differ,” Matty said. “James MacGyver, you’re under arrest. Stand up and step away from the computer.”

With a put upon sigh, James did as ordered. A TAC team Mac hadn’t noticed arriving swarmed him, and in moments James was led out of the room, hands cuffed behind his back. Once it was just the four of them again, Matty directed Riley to take a seat at the desk. 

“I don’t think we’re going to find anything incriminating on this machine,” Riley said a few minutes later. “He may have been an arrogant bastard, but he was smart. He wouldn’t risk anyone from Phoenix stumbling on his schemes. Look around; he probably has another laptop here somewhere. I’m willing to bet he has a whole separate network set up to keep his more despicable business private.”

The group set about tearing the office apart, looking for a second laptop.

“Guys, I think I found it,” Bozer called out, extracting a second laptop from a cleverly hidden space in the floor. He handed it over to Riley, who promptly set it on the desk and began wiping her hands on her pants.

“Oh, yeah, that’s the machine,” she said. “It just feels…slimy. If we didn’t need that thing to find Jack, you wouldn’t be able to pay me enough to look through it.” With a fortifying breath, she lifted the lid and fired it up. And immediately hit the first roadblock.

“This thing has some heavy duty security on it. It’s going to take me a bit to get in.” Then, more to herself than anyone else, she added, “Time to see if all my work at controlling my technopathy is actually paying off.”

Riley closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. Slowly, digit by digit and character by character, the password came to her. At last she was in.

“Okay, let’s see what we can find,” Riley declared as she started rifling through the various files and documents saved to the machine. She tried searching for files with the keywords “Jack,” “Mac,” and “Wolf.” What she found sickened her, but none of them contained the information they were looking for.

“It has to be here somewhere,” she said, desperation giving her voice a sharp edge. “All his other dirty laundry is on here; Jack’s whereabout must be too. I just can’t find it!”

“Riley, stop,” Bozer interrupted. “If it’s there, you’ll find it. But you’re likely to miss it if you can’t calm down and keep a clear mind. Now, sit back for just a second and take a deep breath.” 

Riley did as suggested. She felt the tension slowly ease from her body, and her mind began to clear slightly. So she did it again. And again, until she felt totally back in control. This time, rather than trying to force a connection, she let it come at its own pace, until her mind was fully integrated with the laptop. After that, it was only a matter of minutes before she founds what she was looking for.

“Here it is,” Riley declared triumphantly. There wasn’t much, just a few emails between James and an individual anonymously names H1029384756, but it was enough.

“Good job, Riley,” Mac praised. “We found Jack, now let’s go get him!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, Mac's dad is a complete slimeball who hired Murdoc to rape and terrorize his son. And when that didn't work, he took away the person Mac loves most, and then tried to force Mac into sexual slavery once more. Can you tell I'm not a James fan?


	8. Won't be Had by a Rat

The airport where Jack was to meet up with Hayes and her medical handler was, of all places, a small municipal airport in Gastonia, North Carolina. He’d flown into Charlotte and driven the rented car the half an hour to the small airport. After clearing all the necessary paperwork, he’d moved out to the tarmac to look the plane over for himself. He knew it was supposedly cleared by the CIA, but Jack wasn’t one to let others handle the security necessities unless he had no other choice. So he went over the whole plane, nose to tail, making certain everything was as it should be. He was just finishing up his inspection when the nondescript vehicle carrying Hayes and her handler arrived.

“All right, let’s get her on board,” Jack told the scrawny medico after signing the paperwork taking responsibility for Hayes. “I want to be in the air as quickly as possible. The sooner we can hand that she-demon over to the CIA, the happier I’ll be.”

Once again proving it paid to have friends in high places, and that Matty Webber knew how to handle those “friends,” Jack and his two companions were in the air 20 minutes later, prior clearance having already been given. Jack had just attained his cruising altitude, and was settling in for the long flight, when he felt a sharp pinch in his neck. As the world started to shimmer and go dark, the last thing Jack saw was a grinning, _free_ Harper Hayes watching him.

* * *

When Jack finally returned to wakefulness, he had no idea where he was, or even how long he’d been out. A quick hand across his chin revealed no real scruff, so he was looking at hours rather than days. Jack began to take stock of his surroundings. The room he was square, and consisted of bare gray concrete walls and floor. There was a drain in the middle of the floor, giving Jack a good idea what he might have in store in the not so distant future. A sturdy-looking metal door was centered in the wall directly in front of him. 

Jack was so busy observing his environment, it took him a moment to realize he was no longer in human form. Somehow, without his knowledge or choice, he had transformed into his Guardian form. Not only that, but he was firmly secured to the wall, leaving only his legs free. Jack tried to pull loose, but there was no give in them at all.

“Give it up,” a smug voice said from the direction of the door. 

Jack looked at the dark-haired woman sneering at him from across the room and snarled at her.

“Oooh, scary,” she drawled. She sauntered confidently across the room, stopping just out of arm’s reach. “The way the boss man talked about you, I thought you’d be harder to take out. Now, to be fair, I really didn’t give you a fighting chance, but who wants to be fair?” She gave a throaty laugh that, with anyone else, might have been sensual. Coming from the throat of Harper Hayes, it was just sinister, and more than slightly unhinged sounding.

“Now, we have a bit of exposition to get out of the way,” she continued. “Normally, I’d prefer to get right to the hurting, bleeding, and killing bit, but my backer has other plans. He wants you to know just why you have to die before we get to the fun stuff.”

Jack just glared at Hayes, but in she didn’t seem to notice.

“So, Jacky-boy, it seems you’ve pissed off your boss. Now, normally that’s be a firing offense, but your boss is man after my heart; he wants a permanent end to your professional association. It seems he doesn’t appreciate your relationship with his son. Boffing the boss’s son are we? Of course, given what I’ve seen of that gorgeous blond bombshell, which is pretty much everything, I wouldn’t blame you.”

When Jack growled at the inference, Hayes gave another chuckle and continued. “We were given specific instructions regarding how to handle you. It seems the big man himself really, really doesn’t like Wolves, but he knows them. He knows how to hurt them, specifically; hence the Wolfman form. I’m sure you were wondering how you came to be Changed. My…associate, whom you will meet later on, has figured out the exact combination of hormones and proteins required to force a Change, both to and from Wolf form. From what I understand, it’s a far from comfortable process, but it also means any damage we do to you while in this shape will carry over to your human form. After all, what’s the fun in causing harm if a simple shape-change erases all the evidence?”

Jack curled his lip, showing his fangs, and Hayes smiled all the larger.

“Right, well, I’m sure there’s more you’d like to know, but I’m getting bored with all the talk. I’m a much more hands-on kind of girl. I think it’s time to get down and dirty.”

Without further ado, Hayes pulled a black leather sap from behind her. The leather weapon was about the length of her forearm, and the way she held it made it clear it was a familiar tool. Without warning, Hayes struck out, the weighted baton striking Jack in the ribs with crushing force. His fur, as designed, absorbed some of the blow, but it still left deep bruises. And so it went for the next fifteen minutes. Hayes was breathing hard by the time she was done, but Jack was left with bone and deep tissue contusions on his arms, chest, shoulders, ribs, and upper thighs. Nevertheless, Jack didn’t make a single sound during the entire beating.

“MacGyver warned you were a tough one,” Hayes remarked as she came to stand facing Jack. _That_ got the reaction nothing else had thus far. Jack was unable to mask his surprise and shock the hearing that name in connection with what was currently going on. “Oh, that’s right; you know him as Oversight. And I’m guessing from your reaction, you had no idea he was related to that scrumptious little partner of yours.” She snorted. “For all I know, junior is in on this with his old man. I’ve seen what Murdock did to the boy. If it had been me, I’d have been pissed that you let that happen. Some partner you were.”

Jack did his best to ignore the insinuation, but the guilt he still carried about what had happened to Mac made it hard to do.

“Well, keeping you chained up like this really isn’t all that fun for me,” Hayes continued, enjoying the obvious uncertainty she could read even on Jack’s lupine features. “So we’re going to make this more sporting. You see, we’re on an island. I won’t tell you exactly where, just that it’s someplace in the Atlantic. Here’s where the ‘sporting’ part comes in to play. There’s a boat on one of the coastlines. It has everything you need to get safely away, _if_ you can find it. After I walk out that door, your restraints will release. Five minutes later, the door will open. I will give you a ten minute head start. If you find the boat, you’ll be free to go. I, of course, will be doing everything in my power to stop you.” She looked at her watch. “It’s going to be dark in about an hour. Let’s see who the better hunter really is.”

* * *

Jack didn’t have to be a Wolf to know Hayes was lying. While they very well might be on an island (he could smell the briny water and scent of fish), he knew there was no boat. Giving even the slightest potential of escape to her prey wasn’t Harper’s style. Jack couldn’t decide if Hayes thought he really was that stupid, or if she’d been told to say something along those lines. Whatever the case, Jack wasn’t going to waste his time looking for a non-existent escape route. No, he was going hunting for the communication center that had to be somewhere in the complex itself and see if he could create an escape route all his own.

As much as Jack would prefer to remain in Guardian form, given it’s natural strengths, he knew staying an eight-foot-tall furball wasn’t exactly conducive to sneaking. So, with gritted teeth, Jack forced the change back to human. Without Hayes in the room, he gave in to the whimpers and cries the Change caused as his bruised muscles and bones were forced to changed shape and alignment. By the time he was fully back to human, Jack had involuntary tears of pain leaking from his eyes. Then, ignoring his sensitive skin and lack of clothing, he slipped out the open door and headed down the weakly lit hallway.

As Jack moved through the complex, it became clear this place was old; World War II era or thereabouts if he had to guess. The building was made of the same gray concrete as his cell, and there were very few lights working, at least in this part of the building. Old, long unused metal doors squeaked and squealed as he searched the first few rooms, until he ultimately decided he wasn’t going to find what he was looking for in his immediate vicinity. With that thought in mind, Jack moved more quickly through the halls, aiming to gain the center of the building. Out of habit and ingrained training, Jack memorized his route, as well as any points of egress he came across. A habit that very well might have saved his life when he unexpectedly came face-to-face with Hayes herself.

Still running on instinct, Jack reacted as soon as he saw Hayes. Scooping up a handful of the debris littering the floor, he threw it in her face, even as he kicked out at her knee. She managed to twist enough to take the strike on her thigh, but she wasn’t quite as successful at avoiding the handful of dirt and other detritus aimed at her face. Taking advantage of her momentary blindness, Jack turned around and took off down the hall. With Hayes now on his trail, he knew he was better off getting outside and Changing forms. Weaponless and in just his birthday suit, he was no match for the former operative. At least in Guardian form he’d have his built in weapons. 

Jack headed toward the closest exit he had memorized. Behind him, he could hear Hayes in hot pursuit, and with boots to protect her feet from the rocks and other rubbish littering the floor, she was gaining quickly. As soon as Jack was outside, he initiated the Change. Not for the first time, he was glad those ancient creators of the Faoladh had intended their creatures to be warriors, as between heartbeats he went from man to Wolfman. As he dove into the jungle surrounding the complex, he heard a shot come from behind him. He was too pumped on adrenaline, and too focused on getting away, to notice the score across his outer thigh where the bullet grazed him.

* * *

As the Wolf-creature disappeared into the underbrush, Harper Hayes felt a thrill of delight flutter through her. She knew she had marked the creature with that last shot. Still, his lack of fear, even when severely outgunned and underdressed, was exciting.

“Time to have some _real_ fun,” she muttered to herself, and she slipped into the darkening jungle after her increasingly interesting prey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we finally learn what happened to Jack. He's not in for a good time, I can tell you that.


	9. They Never See the Hate That's in Your Head

They Never See the Hate That’s in Your Head

Three days later, and Harper was still enjoying the chase. She was also feeling slightly exasperated; it had been a very long time since she’d had prey that had managed to avoid her so long and so thoroughly. The island they had been set up on wasn’t that big. And yet, despite that, Jack had managed to elude her ever since his escape. She’d been able to track his blood trail for a ways, and then it had completely disappeared. Somehow that innovative bastard had found a way to stop the bleeding, and then he’d vanished like a ghost in the night. The only clues she’d found had been a few scraps of bird and fish bones the revealed just how he was getting by, and a few bits of fur caught on bushes and trees. Still, Hayes wasn’t worried. The small meals were barely more than a mouthful for the large Wolf. If hunger didn’t bring him down, dehydration, thirst, and a lack of sleep eventually would. As frustrating as the situation was, time was on her side.

* * *

Jack was aware he wasn’t going to be able to evade capture too much longer. Thanks to his advanced healing and immune system, the bullet wound on his thigh was merely painful, and there was no chance of infection. And no; he had no intention of letting Dr. Ryan know he’d used the coagulative nature of his own saliva to stop the bleeding. Despite that, the wound was still extremely painful, and there had been more than once Jack was certain Hayes was going to find him because it was slowing him down. On top of that was the continual hunger and nearly debilitating thirst. While he had been able to obtain a few small, meager meals, they hadn’t been much more than appetizers; enough to lightly whet his appetite but not fill him up. Even more dangerous was the lack of fresh water. No matter what everyone thought, Jack had paid more attention to, and understood more about, the little doohickies and thingamabobs Mac put together than he pretended. Which meant he was able to cobble together a small desalination device to remove the salt from the ocean water and provide some potable water. The process, however, was slow, and the amount produced was only a fraction of his daily requirements. Jack knew it was only matter of time before dehydration got the best of him, and he’d either die alone, tucked away in some hidey-hole, or, more likely, Hayes would finally catch him, and he’d be forced back into the role of her plaything. To be honest, Jack wasn’t sure which was the worst outcome.

It was half-way through the fourth day on the island when the inevitable happened. Worn out from the restless sleep he’d managed to catch in short stretches over the past several days, combined with increasing weakness from hunger and the growing complications from dehydration, Jack was not anywhere near his best. He’d been forced to abandon his Wolf form; it took too much energy to maintain; energy he no longer had. Hayes finally cornered him on a clifftop as he was hunting for bird nests, hoping to find a few late season eggs he could eat.

“I’m willing to admit I am impressed,” Hayes told the dazed Jack as he glared helplessly at the gun in his face. “You eluded me for two more days than I had expected. Tell me, when did you figure out there was no actual escape off the island.”

“As soon as the words left your mouth,” Jack admitted. “I know your type, and you don’t play fair.”

“And you’re smarter than MacGyver gave you credit for,” Hayes said. “That first day, you weren’t looking for an exit; you were looking for a way to communicate with the outside world. I almost wish I could play this my way. You’d be a lot more fun if we could meet on even terms; killing you would be a lot more satisfying.”

“If you’re going to kill me, just do it,” Jack growled.

“You have no idea how much I would like that, and given what’s in store for you, you’d probably prefer that as well, but it’s not an option. We’ve been given very specific instruction on our plan of action, and death is only the very last item on that list. Now, let me attach this-“ she cuffed Jack’s hands with a pair of iron manacles, and then slipped some sort of metal and elastic collar around his neck- and we’ll be on our way.”

As Hayes dragged Jack back toward the compound, he only half-purposefully let her take most of his weight. In part he wanted to slower her down and cause as much inconvenience as possible, but he was also feeling drained enough he was having difficulty supporting himself. Hayes wasn’t happy at the tactic, and Jack took several boots to the ribs when he collapsed and she wasn’t strong enough to force him forward any further. Jack took some personal pride in just how long it took them to finally get back to the main base. Rather than the concrete room he’d awoken in several days ago, Hayes escorted Jack to a state-of-the-art room, somewhere in the bowels of the building. There was a silver cage situated in the center of the room, while the walls and ceiling were lined with what appeared to be monitors or screens of some sort.

In the cage was a low-built cot, which looked a lot more comfortable than where Jack had slept the last several nights. Even without a blanket Jack knew he’d sleep better here than he had since he’d arrived. The food and water offerings, on the other hand, were both disgusting and insulting. On the floor next to the cot were a full food and water dish intended for a dog, complete with dog food.

“I’m not eating the crap,” Jack informed Hayes. She simply shrugged.

“We’ll see how long that lasts when hunger really sets in,” she replied nonchalantly. “Now, I’ll leave you to get comfortable. The doc wanted to know when I brought you in, but I’ll be back in a bit. I’d get what rest I could if I were you; the doc’s not going to be nearly as nice as I was.”

And with that enigmatic statement, she left Jack alone once more.

* * *

Jack wasn’t certain how long he was left alone in the cage, but when Harper returned, she wasn’t alone. Jack wasn’t surprised to see the weaselly little medic that had been with them on the plane.

“You’re quite certain you can control it,” the scrawny man was asking Hayes as they came through the doorway.

“Relax, doc,” Hayes assured him. “Now that we have him back, I’ll make sure he doesn’t give you any problems while you run your tests.”

“Very well. Get the subject ready. I want to get started as soon as possible.”

Jack didn’t have long to wonder what the doctor meant about getting him ready. With a self-satisfied grin, Hayes pulled a small remote control from her pocket and pressed a button. Jack’s world turned white with pain as the collar around his neck sent waves of electricity through his body. The sensation only lasted a moment, but it was long enough knock him off his feet, and keep him out of it long enough for Harper to get him onto a metal gurney and securely strapped down.

“He’s ready, doc,” Jack heard Hayes report as the sound of the blood rushing in his ears began to subside.

“Very well. If you would bring it this way, to the examination room, I will get started.”

The room Hayes delivered Jack to looked like something between an operating room and a typical examination room. The tray of medical implements lying at the ready didn’t give him the warm fuzzies. As Hayes got the gurney in position and locked the wheels, Jack did his best to try and loosen the straps, but to no avail. He was still struggling to get free when the bony doctor came to stand by the side of the makeshift examination table, a digital recorder in hand.

“The subject is a live male, adult, between the ages of 45 and 50. Though, given the Wolf’s ability to heal and the known restorative effects of said healing ability, age could be off by as much as five to seven years. Although slightly dehydrated and fatigued by lack of proper food and rest, the subject appears to be in good health. Given that this is my first live test subject, having one in such excellent condition will provide superb data for my research.”

“Hey, whack job,” Jack growled. “Let me out of this. I’m no one’s guinea pig.”

Jack would have said more, but without a pause in his preparations, the doctor produced a remote control identical to the one Hayes had used earlier and pressed the button. Jack screamed as the electricity ran through him a second time.

“We will begin by testing the subject’s reactions and resiliency to electricity…”

* * *

By the time he was returned to the cage, Jack didn’t think there was a place on his body that didn’t hurt. The tests with electricity had only been the beginning of the tortures the mad scientists had planned. Jack had been subjected to shocks of varying volts, amps, and watts, along with different lengths of time for exposure. It made the instance he had used his own body to connect the pieces of Mac’s homemade missile guidance system look like a bad case of static shock, but that wasn’t what was leaving him in such no pain. No, that had come from the multiple Changes he was forced to undergo. 

The drug induced Shifts had been horrible, and Jack hadn’t been able to hold back his screams as his body was made to go back and forth between human and Wolf without his say-so. And through it all, the doctor, whose name Jack had finally learned was Ghetti, simply stood by and observed as he took verbal notes on his recorder, not once reacting to the obvious agony his unwilling test subject was in. Instead, the man impassively described in minute detail his observations regarding what he could see of Jack’s involuntary and painful metamorphoses, from human to Wolf, and back again. Jack had gone through two complete transformations when the mad doctor concluded he’d learned all he could from external observations. That’s when he’d picked up a scalpel and made the first cut.

Jack refused to look at them, but he knew he was going to scar from this. Marks on his arms, legs, shoulders, and chest bore testament to the brutal “examination” he’d been forced to take part in. Ghetti had sliced him open, several times to the bone, leaving muscle and tissue exposed, and then Jack was forced to Change as the crackpot scientist observed and recorded how his body responded to or healed the wounds, depending on whether he was going from human to Wolf, or vice versa. 

As Jack curled up on his cot, he could only hope and pray Mac and the others found him soon. If this was only day one, he wasn’t sure how much more he could take and stay sane.


End file.
